


A How to Guide for Fixing Ex-Assassins

by Peeko



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Domestic Avengers, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-03 14:18:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12750012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peeko/pseuds/Peeko
Summary: Bucky Barnes is a mess. Ever since Steve dragged him in from the cold kicking and screaming, he has been spiralling down a never-ending abyss of guilt and torment. He doesn't sleep, he barely eats, and the only person he can be around for any period of time longer than five minutes is Steve, and that's only on the few occasions where he is not sticking his tongue down Tony Stark's throat. And isn't that a whole other delightful shit show? It kind of makes it hard to get along with your best friend's boyfriend when you murdered his parents...So of course, when a strange woman kills a bunch of Hydra flunkies in front of him and then invites him out for pancakes, he figures that things can't really get any worse. And hey, free pancakes.





	1. Step One: Always Have a Back Up Plan

**Author's Note:**

> This is a pretty AU depiction of the MCU- basically, after a casual relationship that began post-Avengers (2012), Steve and Tony officially got together after Winter Soldier. This meant that Tony and the whole Avengers team helped Steve look for Bucky, meaning that they found him prior to Age of Ultron. This changed certain events that occurred during Age of Ultron (such as Pietro not dying), and meant that Civil War never happened. This is set a few months after Age of Ultron. There are also mutants in this version of the MCU so yay! And yes this is very important to the plot. This is my first time writing in this fandom, and I don't have a beta so all mistakes are mine and I apologise. Always love to hear from people who enjoy the story or have any plot line requests/suggestions :)

_Crunch_.

At the sound of his fourth finger breaking, the broken creature tied to the chair lets out a pitiful moan. The form in front of him merely cocks its head, letting a small sigh escape on an exhaled breath.

“You knew the price, Dmitri. Cade does not take kindly to betrayal. Be thankful that he has better things to do than trek out into the middle of the Sayan Mountains in winter. While I was told to make this slow, I can promise that nothing I do to you will match what Cade would.”

At the softly spoken words, the man releases another pained moan, lifting his head in the vague direction of the voice. Where there should have been eyes, empty sockets stare sightlessly, blood still falling like tears to join the trails emerging from his mouth, evidence of a tongue that now lies uselessly on the cold floor. The figure hums tunelessly, hand gently caressing the side of the man’s face that was not sliced from mouth to ear. 

“It’s almost over now Dmitri. If I had my way, it would have been quick. To tell you the truth, I understand. This life was not of our choosing. We were never allowed to know anything else. So yes, I understand. I am not angry. Not like Cade is. That’s why this is better, брат. It has been hard, but we are near the end. Then there will be peace. I promise.”

At these words, the figure’s other hand moves, lighting fast, breaking the fifth finger. The man barely makes a sound this time, awareness rapidly fading as his life continues to slowly leak out of him onto the floor below. Seeming to be the signal that the assassin was waiting for, she moves quickly around the man, coming to stand behind him, hands gently resting on his shoulders.

“I will not tell Cade about the child, Dmitri. He will never know the true reason for your betrayal. This I will do for you, brother.”

At these words, the last of the man’s strength leaves him, his form collapsing deeper into the chair. The small girl smiles bitterly, choosing to ignore the tear running down her cheek. Before the man can take another breath, she moves her hands up to his head, a loud _crack_ filling the shadowy cabin as she ends his life with a snap of his neck. In the moment that follows, she stands there, listening to the sound of her breathing echo throughout the cabin. 

After a moment, she walks to the kitchen table, rifling through the bag lying on top of it until she finds a small camera. Pulling it out, she begins to quickly move around the corpse, the only sounds other than her breathing the faint sounds of the camera’s flash function as she collects proof of her compliance. So focused on the task, she fails to immediately notice a second form emerging from a shadowy hallway behind her until she hears the faint sound of a floorboard creaking.

Immediately, she whirls around, simultaneously falling to the floor and throwing the camera, which glows briefly in the darkness before it hits a wall and explodes, sending wooden splinters and dust flying through the air. While the unexpected visitor was able to get off a shot from the gun in his right hand before the unexpected explosion, the bullet misses the girl, embedding into the wall behind her.

Not giving the stranger a chance to shoot again, the girl quickly pulls out two small spheres, tossing the exploding projectiles in the figure’s direction, and then kicks the kitchen table across the floor, marginally satisfied when she hears a _thump_ and a corresponding gruff, masculine grunt. Her satisfaction, however, is short lived. The man seems to recover almost too quickly, suddenly letting off two quick shots that she is only just able to dodge by launching herself to the side, crouching behind a tattered couch that she is fairly sure would not offer much protection against bullets. 

Sure enough, the man shoots three more times, each bullet tearing through the couch and only missing her head by less than an inch, as she waits the too long seconds it takes for five orbs to charge. Once they do, she throws them in his general direction, this time scattering them to cover a wider area. Almost immediately, the sound of five near simultaneous explosions rips through the air. Using the explosions as cover, she darts to the left, taking cover behind wall that, while not anywhere close to bulletproof, should at least offer more protection than a dilapidated couch. 

“Who is your target?”

The only response to the girl’s question is another grunt and two more gunshots. She is pleased to note that the gunshots miss by a wider margin, meaning that at least one of the explosions did some damage. 

“Look, as much as I love a good old fashioned shootout, I really think you should tell me who you are here to kill, because I have a feeling it’s not me.”

Another two gunshots are once again the only response. The girl takes a moment to assess the likelihood that he carries spare clips, immediately coming to the conclusion that her mysterious visitor was unlikely to run out of bullets anytime soon. Groaning softly, she knocks her head onto the wall a few times before trying again.

“Is your target Dmitri Veselov?”

Four gunshots greet this question, so she assumes that she is getting somewhere.

“Dmitri Veselov is dead. See the bloody corpse tied to the chair? That’s him.”

Silence greets this statement. After a few moments, however, she hears the tell tale signs of a seriously injured body making its way across the room. Considering the sounds are heading towards the body and not her current position, she uses the moment to pull out a few more orbs, bigger than the last group, and begins to charge them. Taking care to stay covered by the wall, she quietly positions herself so she can finally see the interloper. The sight that greets her is definitely not comforting. 

Although the masked man stands in front of Dmitri’s body bleeding profusely from a wound in his abdomen, his gun is still levelled steadily in her direction. The fact that he is able to stand, let alone hold and aim a gun, after getting directly hit by one of the explosions, does not bode well for her chances of getting out of here easily. But what happens next causes the blood to drain from her face.

As the man reaches forward, his left hand gripping Dmitri’s bloody hair and pulling up to reveal his face, a stay beam of moonlight shining through the kitchen window falls onto his arm, glinting eerily on the metal that covers it. The girl lets out an involuntary gasp as she realises who this is. Wasting no time, she immediately throws the three orbs towards the other assassin, watching as inhuman reflexes allow him to dodge the projectiles. 

His reflexes, however, can do little about the massive explosion that occurs when the larger spheres make contact with the wall behind him. The blast of energy throws him across the room, slamming his body into one of the few remaining walls, and he crumples to the ground. Noticing that his gun, or at least one of them, has flown clear across the room too, she quickly moves to collect it. After briefly checking the remaining number of rounds, she levels it at the unconscious man in front of her, wondering what the ever-loving fuck she was supposed to do with the Winter Soldier.


	2. Step Two: Eight Hours Sleep is Only a Suggestion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If he isn’t going to get any sleep tonight, Bucky might as well break some shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky POV chapter

“NO! Please! Please don’t k-”

The Asset grips the man’s throat, cutting off his pleading. In less that a second he crushes the man’s trachea in his right hand, throwing the limp body onto the ground.

Target one eliminated. Three more targets until mission is complete. 

The Asset takes a moment to isolate the sound of three panicking heartbeats, locating them as emanating from what must be a hidden space in the wall. Immediately, the Asset steps closer to the heartbeats, then quickly punches its left hand through the wall until it connects with a human head, a loud _crunch_ echoing in the Asset’s ears. 

Pulling its arm back, the Asset only takes a moment to notice his fist is now covered in blood.

Two heartbeats left. Target two eliminated. Two more targets until mission is complete.

Registering that the material that he punch through is not bullet proof, the Asset pulls out a gun and fires four rounds in the direction of the heartbeats. There is a short moment and then the faint sound of two bodies collapsing.

The Asset cocks it head. No heartbeats left. Targets eliminated. Confirmation that mission is complete required.

The Asset punches through the wall multiple times, making a space through which it can confirm the identities of its targets. After eleven seconds, it has made a large enough hole to look through. Stepping forward, the Asset’s gaze sweeps across the corpses huddled together, leaning against the wall that it just punched through. 

Targets confirmed. Mission complete.

Robert Howard, 41. Terminated. Mary-Anne Howard, 37. Terminated. Joseph Howard, 12. Terminated. Elizabeth Howard, 8. Terminated.

“AAAAAARRRRRRHHHHHHH!”

The Asset shoots awake, its scream bouncing off the walls of the vaguely familiar bedroom. Its body shifts and then tenses, readying for attack. After a few moments, however, nothing happens. The only sounds filling the room are the Asset’s ragged breathing and panicked heartbeat. 

Wait. Not the Asset’s. Bucky’s. 

Awareness slowly returning, Bucky allows its body to relax, one muscle at a time. No. _His_ body. The Asset is gone. This body belongs to Bucky. It’s _his_ , mind-shattering nightmares and all. 

_I’m James Buchannan Barnes. Bucky. Not the Asset. The Asset is gone. HYDRA can’t use me anymore. I’m in Upstate New York. Steve brought me here. Steve’s here. Steve won’t let me hurt anyone_.

Bucky repeats this mantra to himself for the next ten minutes, listening to the sounds of his breathing and heartbeat even out. Once they come down to a somewhat more normal pace, he closes his eyes, trying to erase the image of two dead children slumped over what used to be their mother, her face almost unrecognisable after a metal fist was shoved through it.

 _Fuck_.

Running his right hand through his hair, Bucky glances over at the clock that reads 3:26 AM. Deciding that two hours sleep was as good as it was going to get he walks over to his chest of drawers, putting on the first t-shirt and sweatpants that he lays hands on. Grabbing a hair tie from the top of the drawers, he pulls his hair back and then exits his room, heading directly to the training area. If he isn’t going to get any sleep tonight, he might as well break some shit.

He’s onto his fourth reinforced punching bag by the time Steve finds him there. Judging from the fact that Steve came alone, Bucky figures it has only been two or three hours since he woke up. Tony was never awake earlier than 9:00 AM.

“Mornin’ Buck.”

Bucky grunts an acknowledgement at Steve while continuing to punch and kick the bag, hoping that Steve will take the lack of reposnse as the dismissal that it so clearly was. Then again, the little Punk was always nothing if not stubborn as all fuck. 

“Get any sleep last night?”

Bucky’s only response is a dark chuckle that quickly gets lost in the deafening sound of the chains holding up the punching bag finally giving in under the pressure, leaving the bag to go sailing through the air and crash into the wall eight feet behind it. Bucky quickly realises the flaw in his little show of temper. Now he doesn’t have an excuse to ignore Steve. Well, other than Bucky just being an asshole. Which seems like a pretty shitty way to treat the best friend who saved you even after you shot him, beat him half to death and then threw him out of a Helicarrier. Okay so he technically _fell_ out of the Helicarrier, but really, same difference. 

“Been here long?”

“Depends what time it is, Stevie.”

“7:15. Sam and I just got back from our run.”

“Not long then.”

At this boldfaced lie Steve’s eyebrows shoot up, his gaze pointedly shifting around to take in the now four pulverised punching bags that litter the floor. Bucky shifts uncomfortably, wondering how Steve would react if he just told him the truth.

 _Of course I didn’t get any sleep, Steve. I never sleep. Every time I do, all I see is an endless loop of the Winter Soldier’s greatest hits. Last night I watched myself kill a family Stevie. The little girl was eight. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? Compared to seeing that shit, getting two hours of sleep every three days is the lesser evil. Besides, what’s the point of having a super-solider healing factor if you don’t use it?_.

Deciding that telling Steve any of that would likely make his frown lines even worse, Bucky opts for a noncommittal shrug instead. Seeming to finally take the hint, Steve reaches up to clap him on the shoulder.

“Well, Sam is making breakfast. I was wondering if you wanted to eat with the team this morning?”

“Actually, I was planning on heading into the city today.”

At Bucky’s unexpected announcement, Steve’s mouth parts slightly in shock. While Bucky was just as shocked by his spontaneous team-bonding evasion technique, he figures that if it gets him out of sitting in a room full of people who are just waiting for him to lose his mind and start killing everything in sight, then hanging out on a New York City roof for the day won’t be the worst way to spend his time. It wouldn’t be the first time he spent his day that way since arriving at the compound.

“You’re going to Brooklyn?”

The idea of going back to his old neighbourhood, being in the same place where the old Bucky lived, the place where he said goodbye to his family not realising he would never see any of them ever again, made him physically flinch. Unfortunately Steve’s hand was still on his shoulder so at the feeling of Bucky’s full body jolt, his eyes became clouded with concern.

“Ah no. Not today. I was thinking maybe I would go to Manhattan, get lost in the crowds, you know?”

Both Steve and Bucky knew that that was a lie. Bucky could barely stand to be in the same room as the Avengers for more than three minutes. The idea of him happily wandering around a place with over a million and a half people was pretty far fetched. 

“Do you want company, Buck?”

Bucky couldn’t help the flare of resentment this question ignited in him. Logically, he knew that Steve was just being a good friend. He was probably worried that something would happen to Bucky, that HYDRA would catch up with him, or he would need his best friend for emotional support or something. Maybe he just wanted to hang out. They hadn’t really done that much since Steve had dragged him to the Avengers Facility. 

But there was also an insidious voice in his head that suggested that maybe Steve though that it wasn’t _safe_ for Bucky to be alone. That he would snap and just start shooting random civilians. And even though there was a part of Bucky that also worried about that particular scenario coming true, it still pissed him off. He was so sick of everyone around him treating him like a fucking bomb that was about to explode at any moment. 

“Nah, Stevie. I’ll be fine.”

 _It’s not like my day can get any worse_.


	3. Step Three: Don’t Tempt Fate. She’s a Sadistic Motherfucker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky really should have learnt by now that things can always get worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Bucky POV chapter. I've never written action scenes before so sorry if they are confusing haha.

Bucky really should have learnt by now that things can always get worse. 

Dirt poor, working yourself to death, trying to make sure that your best friend doesn’t die because you can’t afford medicine? Hey, how about a huge war that leaves you shipped off to some godforsaken battlefield in Europe!

Suddenly find yourself promoted to Sergeant and in charge of a bunch of men who know that you have no clue what you are doing because all your superiors died? Get captured by the enemy and almost tortured to death!

Get out of the death camp only to realise that while you were there they did something to you. You’re faster, stronger; you can hear and see things that you shouldn’t be able to. Oh well, no time to worry about that. Instead, it’s time to fall to your death while your best friend has to watch. 

Spend 70 years as a mindless killing machine for a bunch of evil dicks, only to finally get free after almost killing the one person left in the world who actually gives a fuck about you? Check.

So yeah, Bucky really should have realised that a couple of nightmares and extreme sleep deprivation were really nowhere near as bad as today could get. No. What this day really needed to top it all off was what seems like a never-ending supply of HYDRA goons chasing him all around Hell’s Kitchen. Oh goody.

Bucky quickly spins around, kicking the HYDRA agent on his left into two more that are running up behind him, while reaching around to grab the next closet one and smashing his head into the alley wall. When the agent’s head practically explodes on contact, he is momentarily disoriented by an assault of Winter Soldier flashbacks.

Bucky can feel himself flicking between the Asset and Bucky and tries to keep a desperate hold on his fractured psyche. The last thing he needs is to lose himself. Who knows if the Asset would fight these HYDRA agents or just meekly follow them back to whatever evil pit they crawled out of? Besides, the last thing he needs is Steve getting hurt trying to save Bucky’s ass. Again.

Suddenly, his entire body is wracked with pain as a powerful electric current shoots through him. Letting go of the dead agent, he whirls around snarling at the fucker that just shot the shock device it him. He is distracted, however, when another shock device hits him from behind now. 

_God I wish I hadn’t let Natasha take all my guns…_

Realising that the goon in front of him has pulled out _another_ shock device, Bucky quickly launches himself at the asshole, snapping the man’s neck while flipping both of them around so he can use the corpse as a shield against the shock device that the other agent quickly send his way. Seeing a wooden crate near his feet, Bucky kicks it hard at the guy, his satisfaction at watching the wood hit with enough force that it impales the douche is short lived, however, because he has to quickly dodge a tranquiliser dart that was shot from behind him. 

Tactically, HYDRA had picked an excellent spot to attack him. Bucky had been heading back to the compound after a day of jumping from rooftop to rooftop in Hell’s Kitchen, only to find himself trapped in an alley with HYDRA agents spilling in each side. The constant barrage of hand-to-hand attacks, shock devices, and tranquiliser darts meant that he couldn’t fight his way out one side without leaving his back vulnerable, and he couldn’t jump up to scale the fire escape without risking being hit by one of the tranqs which, knowing HYDRA, would knock him out almost instantly.

He had honestly lost count of the number of people he had killed. He knew that it was enough that the piles of bodies were starting to make mobility and issue; there was only so much space in a back alley for a pile of corpses. 

_Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have been such an asshole to Steve. I could really use some back up._

Just as Bucky was contemplating whether he could manoeuvrer the HYDRA corpses to make a barrier of sort, a series of explosions tore through one end of the alley, sending a hail of severed HYDRA body parts through the sky. 

“What the fuck?!”

The only response to Bucky’s exclamation is another round of explosions, which sends more HYDRA chunks up into the air. Even with his enhanced eyesight, Bucky can’t see through the thick cloud of dust and debris that surrounds that end of the alley, but figuring that whatever was happening back there had taken out the majority of the agents, he turns his focus on the rather gobsmacked cluster of agents at the other end of the alley. 

Before he can begin to calculate the odds of taking all of them out without getting shot by a tranq, his senses alert him to a faint whistling sound, heralding the appearance of a small, faintly glowing spherical object that shoots past Bucky and, when it smacks into the ground just in front of the group of HYDRA agents, promptly explodes with enough concussive force to throw him back a few feet. 

Trying to think over the loud ringing in his ears, Bucky doesn’t notice the figure running towards him until it shoots past and throws itself at some of the few agents that survived the grenade’s blast. Now that he is no longer in danger of being captured by HYDRA, Bucky takes a moment just to watch the show. 

The person, whoever they are, is small, no more than 5’7’’, and are wearing jeans and a purple hoodie that Bucky suspects may be one of those Hawkeye ones that he heard the Avengers’ PR lady talking about a few weeks ago.

 _Because, yeah. Nothing makes people forget that you almost destroyed the world by dropping a city on it better than Avengers themed clothing_.

By now, however, the purple is almost completely hidden under a thick layer of blood and dust, as the figure uses two batons to lay waste to the remaining agents. Whatever those clubs are made of must be at least as strong as the metal of Bucky’s left arm, because as he watches, a HYDRA agent manages to dodge one of the figure’s swings, and when the baton makes contact with the wall it smashes straight through. Even from his position further up the alley, Bucky can feel the vibrations that the blow sent through the wall.

By this point, Bucky is too curious to leave. Now that the threat of tranquiliser darts has ceased, he finds himself almost entertained by the show, as Purple Hoodie Person flips around, raining down death and destruction on the last few HYDRA agents. By this point, the dust on the other end of the alley has cleared enough for Bucky to see the almost alarming level of destruction those explosions wrought. 

_What the actual fuck?_

It takes less than two minutes, all told. When the last HYDRA agent collapses to the ground, Purple Hoodie Person seems to pause for a moment before whirling around to face Bucky, making wild gestures at the now ruined jumper.

“Dammit! This was new! Do you know how much these things cost? UGH! Fucking HYDRA man!”

At this rather odd pronouncement, Purple Hoodie _woman_ turns around and lands a vicious kick on the closest HYDRA corpse, unzips the hoodie and then proceeds to watch as it _dissolves_ until no trace of the piece of clothing is left. Seeming to feel Bucky’s incredulous look she turns to him and shrugs.

“Not everyone has the Avengers keeping them safe from the law. That jumper was a giant neon sign screaming ‘arrest me for…” She pauses for a moment looking up and down the alley, before continuing, “‘a lot of murders’. On that note, we really should get the hell out of here. There’s this guy who runs around this neighbourhood in bright red body armour that beats the shit out of anyone who breaks the law. And I kind of promised him I wouldn’t kill anyone in Hell’s Kitchen and I really don’t want to be around when he sees, well,” a wild hand gesture encompassing the bloody chaos in the alleyway, “this.”

“I would have thought you would have been more worried about all the explosions drawing the police.”

Her response to this statement is an indelicate snort that seems to sum up for Bucky pretty clearly her estimation of the capabilities of the NYPD.

“Yeah. To be honest, a crazy guy in red with a fondness for beating people’s faces in worries me a bit more than a bunch on incompetent beat cops.”

The only response that Bucky can come up with is a vague nod, as he contemplates how the hell this is his life. The world was so much simpler before the war. 

“Well, I should probably go before more of them turn up. Thanks. For the help, I mean.”

“Nah, this was the last of them. There was another group waiting in an abandoned warehouse a few blocks away, but I took care of them.”

“Why?”

Rather than answering, the woman just shrugs. Bucky is now rather suspicious. What sort of person spends their Friday afternoons going around New York City rooting out HYDRA cells? Well, other than Bucky. And Steve. And Sam. And pretty much everyone Bucky knows. But the people that Bucky knows are weirdos. Then again, this dame doesn’t really strike Bucky as the most normal of people, considering that she is now rummaging through the pockets of the HYDRA bodies closet to her, and pocketing what looks to be a year’s supply of shock devices. Seeming to sense Bucky’s confusion, she looks up from where she’s crouched over one of the bodies and sighs.

“I have a friend, okay? He’s kind of useless in the self-defence department so I figure these can only help, right?”

Bucky watches as she then stands up and starts heading off to the other end of the alleyway. Just as she is about the turn the corner, however, she stops, and swings around to face Bucky.

“Look, are you hungry? Because I’m starving. I have the biggest craving for pancakes ever, and there is a place a couple of blocks down that does the _best_ pancakes. Seriously, they are mind-blowing. My treat.”

With that completely bizarre invitation, she proceeds to turn around and continues walking off, leaving Bucky blinking after her, stunned into silence.

_Seriously. What. The. Fuck._


	4. Step Four: Don’t Panic Until You See the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony cracks a smiles imagining Clint’s face when Barnes swan dived off the roof. Okay, the guy may be a crazy, trigger-happy assassin, but you had to respect the commitment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony POV chapter. I am a fickle writer so I will be switching POV's quite a lot. If you have a particular character's perspective you would like me to write from, feel free to let me know. Also I am so sorry for the most likely numerous typos- I do edit these chapters but I don't have a beta so things slip by. Enjoy :)

“Steve, babe, I swear to God, you have to stop pacing! You have been down here for the last hour stressing about Barnes and it is driving me insane. Barnes is fine. He’s a fucking elite assassin with a kill list that goes back over seventy years. What the hell do you think could possibly happen to him?”

“You didn’t see him this morning, Tony. He was a mess. I don’t think he’s sleeping. I _know_ he’s not eating. And then just runs off saying he’s going to the city when he can barely stay in the same room as _me_ for ten minutes. What if he’s run off again?”

“Actually, Barnes has been sneaking out of the compound for weeks, so my guess is he will be fine.”

“Jesus fuck Clint! How many times have I told you to stay out of my damn vents? I swear I am going to get F.R.I.D.A.Y. to start booby-trapping them.”

As Tony sits at his workshop desk, glaring up at air vents, he realises quickly that he is not going to get any work done today. He could remember the good old days when he would spend days in his workshop undisturbed. Ever since they all moved to the Avengers Facility, however, he’s lucky to get an hour of work in before someone on the team bursts in with some emergency or another. And while Steve’s interruptions are acceptable, that’s mostly because they usually mean that Tony can jump his insanely hot boyfriend and climb him like a tree. So the prospect of Clint setting up a little nest in the ceiling does not sit well with Tony.

“He’s been sneaking out? How?”

Clint doesn’t answer Steve’s questions for a few moments. If Tony had to guess, he would say that Clint feels bad about tattling on Barnes. Or he’s worried that Barnes will rip out his intestines when he finds out. Tony is guessing the latter. Finally, an audible sigh floats down from the ceiling vents and Clint answers.

“Mostly? He just walks out. I mean, its not like any of us are really trying to keep him prisoner here. One time I think he knew I was following him and wanted to fuck with me, so he jumped off of the roof. But again, I think that was more to give me a heart attack than his usual escape route.”

Tony cracks a smiles imagining Clint’s face when Barnes swan dived off the roof. Okay, the guy may be a crazy, trigger-happy assassin, but you had to respect the commitment. Glancing over at his boyfriend, however, Tony notices that Steve does not seem to share his amusement at Barnes’ antics.

“He jumped off the roof?!”

“Yeah.” Clint scoffs and then continues talking. “I have to say, Cap, in all the stories you told us about Barnes you never mentioned that they guy was kind of an asshole.” 

At this, Tony does see Steve’s lips twitch slightly. Well, amused at his best friend’s antics is certainly better than out of his mind with worry. Honestly, it’d enough to make Tony want to scream. 

It had been about eight months since they had finally managed to track Barnes down and Steve had brought him back to America. Tony hadn’t really even had time to process the whole my-boyfriend’s-best-friend-killed-my-parents-and-is-now-living-with-me thing before the whole Ultron mess happened. And yeah, okay, having Barnes around for that was helpful. Tony would be the first to admit that the guy was handy in a fight, so long as you were not the one he was fighting. And, yes, considering the fact he had saved Barton’s life by bringing Ultron and that plane down, Tony could at least admit that he had been glad, for at least a few moments, to have Barnes around.

But the last five months had been painful, to say the least. Steve was right. Barnes is a mess. Tony has been watching as he has steadily gotten worse and worse as the months have gone on, and while the idea of Barnes suffering doesn’t exactly have him weeping, the amount of stress and unhappiness that it causes Steve is reason enough for Tony to at least want the assassin to remain functional. He had even humoured Pepper’s suggestion that Barnes see a shrink, although the look he received when he suggested it to Barnes was enough to convince him to never mention the word ‘psychiatrist’ in his presence ever again.

“Tony?”

“Huh?”

At his name being called, Tony jerked his head up to see both Clint and Steve staring at him expectantly. Evidently he had missed the rest of their conversation while musing about the general shittiness of the whole situation. Steve gave a fondly exasperated sigh and then asked again.

“I was wondering whether you could try and track Buck down, Tony. See if he is doing okay.”

“Oh right. Sure. F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Right away, Mr Stark.”

Steve smiles that wide smile that Tony instantly fell for the first time he ever saw it, and wanders over to Tony, brushing his lips softly against Tony’s.

“Thanks Doll.”

A flicker of movement behind Steve catches Tony’s attention just in time for him to see Clint miming barfing all over the workshop floor. Tony picks up a screwdriver that happens to be lying on the bench top closest to him and lobs it at Clint, who easily dodges the flying tool.

_Freaking annoying circus clown._

Steve hums happily at their antics, while nuzzling into Tony’s hair. Tony always found it endearing how affectionate Steve had become ever since they had decided to make things between them official. It was nice to have someone care about him that much. After everything with Pepper imploded there was a large part of Tony that was pretty convinced that he would never get to have something like this. But then Steve, like always, blasted away his expectations and gave him something even his best dreams couldn’t come up with.

Tony is just tilting his head up, his lips brushing against the underside of Steve’s jaw, when F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice rings through the workshop.

“Sir, it appears that Sergeant Barnes did in fact go to Manhattan. I have, however, found something that may be cause for concern.”

At F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s ominous pronouncement, Steve’s entire body stiffens, and Tony can see that Clint is suddenly standing at attention where he had previously been lounging against one of the workbenches.

“What’s happened F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Is Bucky okay?”

“Well Captain Rogers, I was able to isolate his general location to Hell’s Kitchen. However, I lost track of him at 3:47 PM.”

“Babe, stress less. That's less than forty minutes ago. He probably just did that assassin trick where he turns invisible. It took us months to track him down in Europe, so it would be no problem for him to avoid the city’s CCTV cameras.”

“While that is true, Mr Stark, that is not the reason for my concern.”

At this point, Steve looked like he was about to pass out so Tony took it upon himself to wrangle his overdramatic AI. 

“Get to the point F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

“Well sir, when I lost track of Sergeant Barnes he was walking through Hell’s Kitchen, and all the CCTV cameras in the area went offline three minutes later. Then, at 4:08 PM there were reports of multiple explosions in the area near where Sergeant Barnes was last seen. The police are now on site, and there are reports of multiple bodies. From what I can tell, they are HYDRA agents.”

At the words “multiple explosions”, Tony’s boyfriend was up and sprinting out of the workshop before F.R.I.D.A.Y. even finished speaking.


	5. Step Five: Always Carry Wet Wipes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the hell am I doing here? This has to be the dumbest thing I have done since letting Steve talk me into going to Stark’s party the night Ultron turned up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to a Bucky POV chapter!
> 
> Oh my god I need a beta. So many typos. I would like to think I got them all but I'm being realistic and guessing that there are many that I missed.
> 
> Also remember to leave kudos and comments- I am a needy writer who likes to hear that people like my story hahahaha.

It took Bucky a few seconds for his brain to come back online after the state of confusion that the last fifteen minutes of his life had left him in. When he heard the tell tale sound of someone scaling a fire escape, Bucky decided that he was curious enough to follow Purple Hoodie Woman. Not like he had anything better to do. Besides, he really didn’t want to tell the Avengers about all the people he just killed. Stark’s sanctimonious glares are really starting to annoy him, and this would only make them that much worse.

By the time he walks up the alley and turns the corner, his violent Good Samaritan has disappeared. Stumped, Bucky tries to isolate the sound of her heartbeat, but with the general din of the city and the fact that he wasn’t paying enough attention to memorise it completely, he couldn’t find her. Before he could begin to wonder where she could have gone, however, her head pops out of a window on the fifth story.

“Do you wear large or extra large?”

“Huh?”

At Bucky’s answer she rolls her eyes, and ducks back into the apartment. By the time Bucky climbs up to where she is, Purple Hoodie Woman has an armful of clothes and is making her way out of the window that she had apparently smashed open. 

“You going to stand there all day staring or are we going to head up to the roof?”

Taking the not so subtle hint to get out of her way, Bucky lets her pass and then follows her up to the top of the fire escape. Once they get there, she gestures upward, and he interprets that her wanting him to boost her up to the roof. Once he does, he easily jumps up after her.

“Thought you promised me pancakes.”

“Funnily enough, зима, the general masses tend to freak out when they see someone who looks like they just escaped one of the dungeons in _Saw_.” 

At the nickname, Bucky raises one of his eyebrows, but after looking down at his blood soaked and torn clothes, he had to admit that she probably had a point. 

“I assume that was the reason for the breaking and entering?”

“Nah, I just get my rocks off from breaking into people’s homes and stealing their clothes. I know, its probably a little strange, but then again, there are people who like to get peed on so I suppose I’m not too far out of the ordinary.”

Once again, Buck is left blinking while he tries to make sense of what he was just told. Purple Hoodie Woman, however, is not paying attention, having walked to the other side of the roof to collect a black bag that had been sitting innocuously near the ledge. Once she picked it up and brought it over, she begins rifling through it, eventually emerging with the largest box of wet wipes Bucky has ever seen. She then straightens up and begins undoing her fly while toeing off her black sneakers. Bucky quickly swings around to give her some privacy, not missing the amused scoff that greets his attempt at chivalry.

“You might as well get your clothes off too. I doubt the clothes I got will fit all to well, but at least you won’t be dripping HYDRA viscera. And make sure you wipe all the blood off your face. And don’t forget behind the ears. People always forget to wipe behind the ears.”

All in all it takes about fifteen minutes and an ungodly amount of wet wipes to get both of them looking marginally presentable. By that time, the police had finally responded to the explosions and Bucky watched as a woman put up crime scene tape all over the entrances to the alley. Turning around, he watches as she moves all their bloody clothes and wipes into a pile and then proceeds to dissolve it like she had the hoodie.

“How are you doing that?”

Rather than answer, she just looks up, allowing something to shift in her eyes, making the previously bright green irises flash a bright red. 

“You’re not the only one with fun little party tricks, зима. Although, the world is far more forgiving of your kind than mine.”

_Again with the nickname._

“So you’re a mutant.”

At Bucky’s statement, she smiles widely. The smile, however, is unnerving. It doesn’t reach her eyes, and seems sharp, almost dangerous.

“We should probably go before they start checking the building.”

With this said, she turns around, and runs to the edge of the roof, leaping easily over the gap to the next building and landing with a practiced roll. Bucky follows from a small distance as she jumps from roof to roof before finally making her way to street level. They then walk for a few minutes in silence, until they reach a small diner and are directed to a booth in the back. After a minor standoff over who would have to sit with their back facing the entrance, Bucky smugly settled in, making sure he had an unobstructed view of the front door.

Bucky takes this moment to actually get his first clear look at her. She is young, probably early twenties, with big green eyes that are framed by dark eyelashes. Her skin is almost alarming pale, made even paler by the long black hair that is falling out of a messy bun on the top of her head. She is even smaller out of the purple hoodie, the black tank top that she is wearing revealing almost alarmingly pronounced collarbones, her wrists small enough that Bucky is fairly sure even a normal human could snap them with fairly little effort. He is also sure that other than the batons that are currently sitting in the black bag at her feet, she is completely unarmed, which makes Bucky nervous. Someone who is obviously so adept at killing and is not carrying weapons usually means that they are dangerous enough on their own not to need them.

_What the hell am I doing here? This has to be the dumbest thing I have done since letting Steve talk me into going to Stark’s party the night Ultron turned up._

“I’m curious that you haven’t asked me my name yet. While I don’t have much experience with the whole rescuing damsels in distress gig, it does seem like standard operating procedure.”

_I wonder if anyone would notice if I stabbed her?_

“Honestly? I assumed you wouldn’t give it to me.”

“I might if you ask nicely.”

Bucky can’t quite decide what to make of that answer, so he chooses to ignore it.

“You haven’t asked what my name is either, you know?”

The woman’s face twists into a wry smile at this, and she huffs a laugh.

“Sorry James Buchanan Barnes, but you are kind of a big deal in certain circles. The Winter Solider turning out to be the long lost best friend of Captain America? That is the sort of news that travels fast. I think the last time people were so aflutter was when Black Widow joined S.H.I.E.L.D., although you are probably a bigger deal than even Romanoff. I think it’s the whole, mysterious urban legend come to life thing. You are basically the equivalent of Big Foot walking into a downtown Starbucks.”

“Um, thanks?”

She shrugs as she begins to answer.

“It is what it is. You were the bogeyman that handlers used to tell their assets about to keep them in line. We all heard stories about the Winter Solider. Now that you are free of HYDRA, no one is quite sure what to make of you. You disappeared into the ether when HYDRA fell. Then you suddenly pop back up in America, with Earth’s Mightiest Heroes as your roommates. You don’t fight with the Avengers, yet you live with them. It is interesting enough to command at least a little attention.”

“And did your handler tell you stories about the Winter Soldier to keep you in line?”

At Bucky’s question, a dark looks takes over her face. Her eyes, which had been somewhat open, although admittedly mostly calculating, shuttered instantly. She is spared from answering, however, by the arrival of a waitress, who takes their orders and then leaves with a flirtatious smile directed at the woman. Bucky’s mystery companion smiles back, a slow, sensuous grin that leaves the girl blushing darkly as she walks towards the kitchen. The woman’s eyes follow the waitress for a brief moment before turning back to Bucky.

“I’ll make you a deal. You tell me why you were in Hell’s Kitchen today, and I will tell you my name.”

“That doesn’t really seem like a fair trade.”

“It probably isn’t. But unless you want to talk about the weather while we wait for our food, this is the only line of conversation that interests me currently.”

_Stabbing her is looking more and more appealing._

“I needed some air.”

“Is there a lack of air in Upstate New York?”

That comment brought Bucky up. He narrowed his eyes at her and she just rolled hers in response.

“Stark didn’t exactly hide his new shiny facility. The reason that no one attacks it is because it’s not worth the effort, not because no one knows where it is. Although, if anyone were arrogant enough to try, it would be HYDRA, so you may want to review its security measures.”

_You can fucking bet I will be. I knew staying anywhere where Stark lived was a bad idea. The man wouldn’t know what subtlety was if it ran him over with a tank._

“Fine. I needed some space.”

At this statement, something in her eyes shifts, not becoming kind exactly, but somehow softer. It was strange, but for some reason Bucky suddenly felt like she understood, at least somewhat. Which was an odd feeling to have regarding a stranger that had not even told him her name yet. Not even Steve understood what Bucky felt, and Steve was the closest thing to family he had left.

“Humans are odd creatures, зима. It is almost alarming how quickly they get accustomed to things. You may always feel like a bomb about to go off, but they will not always see you as one. Give it time and they will adjust. Eventually you will just become what they are to each other: a danger whose familiarity makes it comfortable.”

Bucky considered her words for a few moments. He couldn’t help but think of Bruce Banner, and how the Avengers had treated him, even after the mess in Johannesburg. They all knew he was dangerous, possibly the most dangerous of all of them, but they never treated him as such. If anything, Bucky had often found himself alarmed at the cavalier attitude Stark and the others took towards the Other Guy. And while he couldn’t actually imagine of the Avengers trusting him like they did Banner, maybe one day they won’t all look at him as if they were just waiting for him to lose whatever tenuous grip on his sanity he has been able to establish?

_Yeah, just about the time that Stark stops bringing up me killing his parents every time we are in the same room together, and Natasha doesn’t flinch every time I am in the vicinity of a firearm. And can I really blame them? For Christ’s sake, look at the things I’ve done. I’m a monster. I make the Hulk look fucking tame._

Bucky was pulled out his maudlin thoughts by the arrival of the food, and amused himself by watching Purple Hoodie Woman flirt with the waitress about flavours of syrup of all things. He vaguely remembers flirting with dames, back before enlisting. The memories are jumbled and fragmented, but he has flashes of bright red lips, laughter, and the sound of a band playing. Shaking his head to dispel the memories, Bucky focused on the nearly obscene pile of pancakes sitting on his plate, thankful that he didn’t have to contend with his enhanced metabolism in the forties. He would have eaten he and Stevie out of house and home in less than a week.

Shoving a forkful of pancakes in his mouth, Bucky turns his focus back onto the woman sitting opposite him, who had somehow covered her entire stack of pancakes with whipped cream while he was distracted. After swallowing his mouthful, Bucky decides to bring up her side of the bargain.

“So, I told you why I was in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Barely.”

“Didn’t your ma ever tell you not to speak with your mouth full?”

“Ha, joke’s on you. Never had a mother. So I suppose you are just going to have to suck it up and live with it. It’s Lexa, by the way.”

“Your name is Lexa?”

“One of them at least. It’s the one I’m using now. I’m quite fond of it actually.”

_Well, it’s more than I was expecting at least._

“So what were you doing in Hell’s Kitchen, Lexa? Hunting down HYDRA flunkies doesn’t really seem like something you would spend your time doing.”

“It isn’t really. I happened to notice that someone had set up shop in an abandoned warehouse, so I popped in to make sure that it wasn’t… anyone I should be worried about. When I overheard them talking about capturing the Winter Solder I was curious.”

Bucky had definitely noticed the almost imperceptible pause in Lexa’s explanation. He knew for a fact that she wasn’t telling the whole truth. But then again, did he really expect her to? The fact remained, though, that something was off. It was too convenient a story for her to just stumble on a HYDRA cell and then randomly decide to help the Winter Soldier fight them off. Nothing about any of this made any sense, from the almost familiar way she acted around him, to the constant half-truths and non-answers. The whole thing made his skin itch, a feeling that he usually associated with being the Asset and when he felt like someone was watching him. 

They both sank into a charged silence as they finished their food, only breaking it when the waitress came to collect their plates and ask them if they wanted anything else. Just as Lexa was about to answer, however, Bucky suddenly heard a soft vibrating from her bag, watching as she ducks down and pulls out a burner phone and checks the screen. Immediately she lets out a frustrated groan, her eyes flicking to the entrance of the diner, to Bucky, then back to the waitress.

“Just the check please. Thanks, everything was great.”

The waitressed grinned and then went off the collect the check. Bucky, however, raises his eyebrows in question. 

“Your friends have noticed your absence. Apparently they have arrived at the alley and are now searching for you.”

_Because that’s not creepy at all. Who the hell is this woman?_

“I take it you don’t have much interest in making their acquaintance.”

An indecipherable looks flashes across Lexa’s face before she schools her expression into a sardonic mask.

“Funnily enough, my life is a lot easier when I stay off of a superhero team’s radar.”

Bucky nods and stands, trying to ignore the strange feeling in the back of his head that was telling him not to leave.

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_

“Thanks for the pancakes.”

“Anytime, зима.”

Before Bucky can get to the front door, however, he is stopped by a small hand grabbing onto his left wrist. His body immediately locking down, Bucky fights the instinct to twist the hand and break it, while using his other hand to shove the person to the ground and crush their neck. 

Lexa seems to realise this and quickly removes her hand before stepping in front of Bucky, making sure that she gives him enough space.

“If you want to talk or anything, find the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. He can get a message to me.”

Before Bucky can reply, however, she swiftly exits the diner, immediately getting lost in the crowded New York City street.


	6. Step Six: Don’t Make Friends With Crazy People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Matthew Murdoch had been having a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Matt Murdoch POV chapter.
> 
> Sorry again for any spelling and grammar mistakes. I really need a beta haha.

Matthew Murdock had been having a good day. 

Things with Foggy had finally settled into a state of equilibrium. When everything about his ‘extracurricular activities’ came out, Matt was fairly sure that nothing would ever bring their friendship back. But things were better. Matt knew that Foggy disapproved, that he didn’t, _couldn’t_ understand why Matt needed this, but he tried. He was even down to one disapproving sigh a day, which was leaps and bounds over what Matt had expected, if he was being honest with himself. 

Things with Nelson and Murdock were also going well. After everything with Fisk, word had gotten around about their law firm, and now Foggy, Karen and he were almost overwhelmed with the amount of potential clients that streamed though their door. And okay, Foggy probably has a point about the benefits of clients who pay with legal tender rather than an elaborate barter system, but the tamales they received the other day were amazing. And more importantly, they were helping people. He and Foggy had even just won a client’s case against a corrupt landlord. Matt was helping people get justice during the day, and at night. 

So yeah, Matt was having a good day. Until, that is, they were walking back to the office and a series of loud explosion assaulted his senses, leaving him temporarily disoriented. 

“Matty? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Matt was peripherally aware of Foggy’s questions, but all his attention was on the distant site of the explosions which, after a brief moment of silence, started up again, only to fall into more silence. He strained his hearing to pick up anything, but it was too far away. 

_That better not be what I think it is._

“There were just a series of explosions coming from Hell’s Kitchen.”

“You could hear that from all the way over here?! What am I taking about, it’s you. Of course you can. Can you tell where in the Kitchen? It’s not near the office is it? We have to call Karen.”

Matt shakes his head, still straining his ears for subsequent explosions or sirens. After about five minutes he heard a cacophony of police and fire engine sirens moving towards the approximate site of the explosions. 

“I’m going to go check out the scene.”

“What? Matt we have work. You know, that thing we do to pay our bills? And your not even listening to me.”

Matt doesn’t even wait for Foggy to begin voicing his complaints before walking to the intersection and turning right, in the direction of what is sure to soon be a crime scene. He is vaguely aware of Foggy following behind him, mumbling the whole time about _idiots with hero complexes_ and _Catholic guilt_. It takes them almost thirty-five minutes to reach the scene, by time it is swarmed with law enforcement and crime scene technicians. 

“Holy shit...”

Matt has to concur with Foggy’s summation. The alley is a disaster. Rubble and debris is littered everywhere, along with what is easily over thirty bodies, most of which are not in one piece. Matt breathes in deeply, trying to locate any specific scents but with all the people, dust, and blood, it is almost impossible from this distance. 

“I need to get closer. I can’t tell anything from this distance.”

“Of course you want to get closer to the alleyway of doom. I don’t know if you can tell this or not Matt, but this place is _crawling_ with law enforcement. I’m not really sure you can get much closer without being charged with tampering with a crime scene.”

“I just need to get a bit closer to see if I can pick up a scent. If it’s there, it won’t be hard to find it.”

Before Matt can move closer, however, Foggy’s hand shoots out, tightly gripping his forearm. 

“Hold up. Are you saying that you already know who did _that_?”

“No. I’m saying I won’t know until I get closer.”

“But you have an idea about who it is? Because it sounds an awful lot like you do.”

Matt decides that silence is the best answer to that question. He never actually told Foggy about Lexa when he met her five months ago. At first it was because there was nothing really to tell. Matt had been dealing with some remnants of the Yakuza when Lexa suddenly showed up and helped him take them down, before stealing a laptop from the warehouse that the criminals were working out of. 

After that, Lexa had intermittently shown up while he was on patrol, usually resulting in significant property damage and more often than not some serious carnage. The only reason why he hadn’t tracked her down and handed her over to the police was that she hadn’t killed anyone in front of him. Although Matt was fairly certain that when he was not around she exhibited far less self-control. 

After a month they came to a tenuous agreement: the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen wouldn’t interfere in whatever she was trying to accomplish, as long as she did not kill anyone, kept the property damage to a minimum, and avoided injuring innocent bystanders. So far she had kept to the agreement, and during the last four months, something resembling a friendship had formed between them. 

While she was unpredictable, and Matt suspected unstable too, Lexa was also remarkably easy to be around. Even when he had entered his apartment two months ago to find her lounging on his couch asking about whether they could adopt a Seeing Eye Dog together, the requisite freak-out about his secret identity being blown ended fairly quickly. Despite not knowing her real name ( _because, really, if she was going to pick a fake name couldn’t she have gone with something better than Alexandra Hamilton?_ ), Matt trusted Lexa. She had saved his life more times than even Claire, and had, weirdly enough, become his closest friend other than Foggy. 

_Of course, if she is responsible for this mess, she is going to have to give me one hell of an explanation or I am carting her off to jail._

“Matt? You’re really going to ignore me, aren’t you?”

Sighing, Matt takes a moment to push up his glasses, squeezing the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“It’s complicated Foggy. I’ll explain once I figure it out, okay?”

“No, Matt. Not okay. I thought we were done with this? The lying, the sneaking around, the _hiding the fact that you had superpowers from your best friend for years_. Tell me what is going on right now.”

Matt waits a beat, trying to figure out the best way to explain Lexa. Coming up with nothing, he decides that vague is probably the smart way to go.

“There’s this woman.”

Foggy scoffs, throwing his hands up in a typically overdramatic gesture.

“Of course there’s a woman.”

“It’s not like that. _We’re_ not like that. She’s a friend, that’s all.”

Foggy seems to digest this for a moment, Matt sensing as his body pointedly turns to take in the destruction of the alley, then shifts back so he’s facing Matt.

“You have a friend. Who did _that_. What the fuck Matt?!”

“Keep your voice down Foggy!”

“I don’t think I will keep my voice down Matt. Seriously, what the fuck? Have you lost what little of your mind you somehow retained after getting punched in the face every night? You’re ‘friends,’” Matt almost laughs when Foggy actually uses air quotes, “with someone who evidently makes Jack the Ripper look like a alter boy?”

“She promised me she wouldn’t kill anyone.”

“Yeah, I don’t think she is sticking to that promise, Matty. In fact I would go so far as to say that she has defini- are you even listening to me?!”

Matt was not, in fact, listening to Foggy. Instead, he was listening to a faint mechanical whirring noise that was coming from the sky. As the noise got closer, Matt could faintly hear a slightly different sound signaling that there was another flying object making its way a little behind the first. It was only once the first object got closer, however, that Matt recognised what it was.

_This is not good._

Matt had heard Stark’s Iron Man suit once before, when he happened to be walking down a street when it flew overhead. If he had to hazard a guess, he would say that the object behind Stark was an aircraft carrying more Avengers. 

_Trust Lexa to somehow wind up on the Avengers’ radar._

Sure enough, less than five minutes later, Iron Man is touching down, accompanied by a flurry activity from the law enforcement officers, and screaming adoration from passersby. Ignoring Foggy’s arm whacks, Matt inches closer, hoping to hear something useful as the lead investigator approaches Stark.

“Mr. Stark. This is police business.”

“Yeah. I’m not here to get involved with your crime scene, officer.”

“Detective.”

“Right yeah. So I was wondering what information you could give me, officer? We are happy to help however we can.”

_God Stark is an asshole._

After a brief conversation with the detective, who by the end seems like he would love nothing more than to shoot Stark, Matt is no closer to finding out what the hell Lexa has gotten herself into. Stark was asking fairly routine, if rudely phrased, questions, although weirdly enough it seems like he is fairly convinced a man was involved, rather than a woman, from the pronouns he let slip when asking about suspects. 

“Matt, as much fun as it is to sit here while you ignore me, we have to go back to work. You know? That place we are supposed to be for our jobs?”

Realising that he was not going to get any more information without coming back tonight, he allows Foggy to begin to lead him away with a tight grip on his arm.

“Right, okay.”

Matt and Foggy walk back to their office in silence, although Matt can practically feel Foggy’s frustration rolling off him in waves. The prospect of the fight that he and Foggy are inevitably going to have distracting him enough that he doesn’t realise something is off until they are just about to walk into their building. 

“Hello Matty.”

Matt jerks to a stop, turning to face the voice. Foggy, who had been sulking next to Matt, also stops and looks at the person who just called out to Matt. Standing there, holding a duffle bag that Matt can hear weapons clacking around in and smelling of blood, is the last person that Matt wanted to see at this very moment.

_There is no way I am going to be able to explain this to Foggy._

“Hello Lexa.”

Yeah, Matthew Murdoch _had_ been having a good day.


End file.
